Long After Forever
by starlightwalking
Summary: The battle had passed and the world was at peace, but Kíli was discontent. Post Dagor Dagorath; includes elements of the Silmarillion. ONESHOT. Written for Kiliel Week on tumblr. Day 7: Freeform.


For the final day of Kiliel Week, I've written another fic. This is an idea I've been thinking about for a long time, and I'm glad I finally got around to writing it. This could be seen as a sequel to the Tauriel Dies AU tolkienguardians and scene-88 on tumblr wrote me for my birthday, but it could also be seen as a continuation of canon events, I didn't make it especially clear.

Also, yesterday I posted a Modern AU for Kiliel Week on Archive Of Our Own. I would have posted it here, but it was heavily image-based and FFN doesn't allow that kind of content here. If you'd like to check that out, go to my AO3 (I'm Gingehfish) and it's the story titled "No Strangers to Love".

Thank you for reading!

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 **Long After Forever**

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The battle had passed and the world was at peace. Kíli had long, long since accepted his place in the rebuilding of the world. For an uncountable span of time, he and his kin had worked alongside their Maker to forge Arda in a new and splendid glory. The menfolk had departed from the world, moving On to wherever it was that Ilúvatar willed them to go.

He had surrounded himself in family and work, enjoying death and his later rebirth. He was happy. He felt at home with his kin, whom he loved dearly, and in the steady rhythm of and routine of labor.

But now, though his family still was there for him, he felt restless. Arda Reformed was complete; now the Valar, the Maiar, the Eldar, and the Khazad all lived in harmony upon the world he had helped build. Peace abounded, and would forever. But he was not content.

His restlessness was subtle, at first. Kíli would at times glance to the east, where the Eldar dwelled, those reborn and those who had never died. When someone caught him staring there, he looked away. But he knew what he was missing, what he was longing for: one elf in particular. Tauriel, his love from so long ago.

Not a day went by when he didn't think of her. Though he had grown satisfied with his lot, happy among his loving family, it till haunted him to think of what might have been, had their lives together lasted longer.

He would find himself thinking of her more and more, now that the work of his people was complete and he had nothing with which to distract himself. The others had taken up hobbies. Fíli had begun to write a book of his memoirs. Thorin spent his free time in the forges, crafting beautiful weapons that would forever be unused. Dís sang to great crowds, a local celebrity. But none of them spoke to the elves. Their two kins, though peaceful, remained separate, seemingly too different to be friends.

All save one. Gimli, Kíli's cousin, had been named an elf-friend in his life, the sole dwarf to ever dwell in Valinor, and had chosen to live among the Eldar with his dear friend, Legolas. Occasionally, Gimli would visit his family, but those times were few and far between. Never did Legolas accompany him.

On one such occasion, Kíli happened to catch him as he left, heading east to the dwellings of the elves.

"Gimli!" he exclaimed, embracing his cousin. "How do you fare?"

"Well, thank you, Kíli," Gimli said. "And you?"

"Tolerably." Kíli scratched at his neck, feeling nervous. "And...how are the elves? How is...Legolas?"

"The elves are wonderful," the red-bearded dwarf said, smiling. "Legolas is well. He and I have gone hunting often in recent times. Some of our friends accompany us."

"Who are these friends?" Kíli asked. "Elves? Maiar?"

"Elves, mostly," Gimli said. "Occasionally one of Oromë's Maiar will visit, but never has the Hunter graced us with his presence."

"Is...Tauriel one of your hunting friends?" She was close to Legolas, wasn't she?" Kíli tried to pass off the question as simply passing curiosity, but in truth, he longed to hear of her. It had been so _long_ since he'd spoken her name. He breathed it out, a phrase of starlight and wonder, relishing the beautiful taste of her memory.

Gimli nodding, biting the inside of his lip as he thought. "Yes, sometimes a Tauriel does come. I do not know her well, but Legolas is friends with her." He shot Kíli a quizzical look. "Why do you ask?"

"I..." Kíli hesitated. Ought he to tell the truth? Gimli seemed not to have heard the infamous tale of how a prince of Erebor had fallen for an elf. Had Legolas, a witness to the event, not told him?

"She was...a friend, long ago," he said. His line of sight wandered from Gimli's face to the glowing speck on the eastern horizon that was the city of the elves. Was she there? Did she still think of him, after all this time? Eons and eons had passed since they had been forced by death to separate. Had she moved on in that time? Ought he to have done so? Peace abounded in Arda Reforged, but he could find none in his heart, for all he had aided the creation of that peace after the Great Battle.

"If I see her again, I shall send her your regards, then," Gimli said. Kíli snapped his gaze back to him, finding his cousin looking at him with a knowing pity in his eyes.

"Thank you," Kíli murmured. "Good day, Gimli."

"Good day!" Gimli said. He bumped his cousin's shoulder in goodbye, then walked away, a radiant happiness shining from him. Kíli longed for that feeling of certainty and joy, but he found himself only the more dejected after the encounter. He had never felt more discontent.

Time passed. Whether it was days or months or years, Kíli could not tell. Time did not work the same way as it used to: Arda seemed locked in one long, blissful afternoon.

He tried to distract himself. He would find a hobby: carving, or artistry, or music. It didn't really work. He was tolerably good at what he tried, but his heart just wasn't in it. Eventually, he gave up. He spent his time with family, and with friends, but all he could do was think of Tauriel. He moved his armchair to the window of the home he shared with his brother, and would stare out of it to the east—hoping, wondering, knowing it was impossible. Elves and dwarves simply did not mix. Gimli was the exception to the rule. It wouldn't happen. He would never see her again. But that knowledge didn't keep him from daydreaming.

One day, there came an unexpected knock at his door. He got up out of his window-facing armchair and answered it.

When he saw who it was, he nearly fainted.

She was tall, taller than he remembered, thin and lithe, with beautiful pale skin. Her hair was long and as red as a firemoon he had seen once so long ago, though all he truly recalled was the flaming hue and a distant memory of a dungeon where he told he the story of that night. Her face was even more beautiful than he ever could have imagined in his delirious daydreams: full lips he had never kissed and eyes as green as the emeralds he had made for Mahal—or perhaps the emeralds were as green as her eyes, made in his lovesick mind after her memory.

He stared up at her, so tall, so beautiful, drinking her presence with eyes that never beheld such beauty. He was at a loss for words. What could he do, what could he say? Was she really here? Did she still love him as he loved her?

"Tauriel," he whispered, still standing motionless and breathless before her.

For her part, she stared at him, her lips parted slightly, her eyes wide. Her hands shook as she stepped toward him.

"Oh, Kíli," she said in a tremulous, tender voice that sent shivers down his spine. He feasted on her words, her voice, her beauty. It had been so long—so _long_...

In one harmonious, fluid motion, they broke the spell upon them and moved toward each other. Kíli clutched her hand fiercely, never wanting to let it go. Her fingers intertwined with his and he stroked her hand with his rough thumb, feeling how smooth her elven skin was.

She leaned down, he leaned up: their bodies pressed together and their lips met. He could feel her soft mouth on his, gently moving to further explore his own. His heart beat quickly and he could feel his mind afire with the blaze of her love. The hand not clutching her own clung to the fabric of her robe, and he could feel her back beneath her clothes.

He did not know how long the kiss lasted: perhaps forever. Time was not the same as it once was, and it seemed altered even then. He did know that somehow they broke apart and he found himself sobbing in her arms. Her hair covered him like a blanket, and she clung to him, her grip tight and fierce. He never wanted to let her go—unless it was to kiss her again.

"Tauriel," he sobbed. "I love you, Tauriel, I always have—"

"I know," she whispered, her chin touching the top of his head. "I love you, too."

With those words he found the peace he had for so long been missing. She was here, though he did not yet know how, and she loved him. They had lost so much time, but there was so much ahead of them. He and Tauriel had an eternal future together, unmarred by death and full of joy, even if they had to have waited long after forever to reach it.


End file.
